The Last Journey
by xXdreameaterXx
Summary: The Doctor knew that his men were talking behind his back, he knew they thought he had gone mad but he made a vow and even if it meant sailing the seven seas and beyond, he would not rest until Clara was back by his side. PirateAU. Set a few years after Under Jolly Roger (Read that one first if you haven't yet).
1. Chapter 1: Silly Little Bit Of Hope

**The Last Journey**

 _The Doctor knew that his men were talking behind his back, he knew they thought he had gone mad but he made a vow and even if it meant sailing the seven seas and beyond, he would not rest until Clara was back by his side. PirateAU. Set a few years after Under Jolly Roger._

 **Chapter 1: Silly Little Bit Of Hope**

The Doctor felt like he was falling, drifting into a sweet, numbing oblivion. That was the only place where he could find peace and consolation even though the ship was crossing rough water and the movements made his stomach twist to the point he thought he would vomit. He turned around in his bunk and looked into Clara's serene face.

"My Clara," he whispered softly and outstretched his hand to touch her hair. It always felt like silk, even now, but instead of a smile he only earned a scolding glance from her.

"Why?" she breathed and mimicked his gesture, stroking his face and his hair with a gentleness that was unique to her until her fingers tangled in the beard that had grown untended for too long, "Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"

The Doctor snorted in reply and laughed bitterly. "It's the only way to be with you."

" _Captain!"_

Finally Clara smiled at him. "They need you," she whispered softly. "Your men. Your ship. They need you. You still haven't repainted the _TARDIS_ and I've told you a hundred times."

The Doctor caught hold of her hand and drew it to his lips, placing a long kiss to the back of it. "And I need _you_."

" _Captain!"_

Clara exhaled sharply and closed her eyes. No. That was all wrong. He needed to look into her eyes. He needed to remain here a bit longer. He just wanted to be with her. Was that really too much to ask?

"You stubborn, drunk, old fool," she said after a while and the Doctor was vaguely aware of indistinct chatter breaking out around him. It didn't matter. Being with Clara, that was what mattered and nothing else. "They're talking behind your back. They say you've gone mad."

"I know that," the Doctor cut her off. He just wanted to talk to Clara, not to the rest of his sanity that he hadn't been able to drown.

"You're going to lose everything. And for what?" Clara granted him a sad smile and suddenly pulled her hand out of his grip, "A silly little bit of hope."

"Hope is never silly," he countered determinedly.

"It is when it's lost."

The Doctor gasped when suddenly he was so rudely awoken and found himself lying in a puddle of saltwater that was slowly drenching his mattress. He blinked and found one-eyed Johnny standing over his bunk, holding the empty bucket.

"I'm sorry, Captain," he smiled weakly, "I didn't know how else to wake you. We've reached Tolagnaro."

The Doctor sank back into the pillow with a groan and closed his eyes. "I'll be outside in a minute."

"Captain-" Johnny tried to object, sounding as if he didn't believe him at all – which was just too understandable. But still, the Doctor needed a moment.

"Go," he told the man standing over his bed and was finally left alone again without further discussion. Yet no matter how hard the Doctor tried he couldn't invoke Clara from his mind again.

Slowly the Doctor staggered in the direction of the deck, his stomach revolting against the rum and the waves. When he realized he couldn't hold it in any longer he lurched forward and threw up over the railing. Years ago he would have considered it an embarrassment. He was a seasoned sailor, he could hold his drink but that was before Clara and before it had all gone wrong.

"Better?" Johnny asked him with a sympathetic look.

The Doctor straightened his back and swallowed. "No," he replied simply.

"Well," the young man took a deep breath, "We're in Tolagnaro. Finally. Wanna enlighten the crew what we're doing here?"

"No."

"Doctor," Johnny began and he just knew that it was going to turn into a lecture he had no intention of hearing, "They're getting restless. I know, sailing around the seas is what we do but you seem to have a plan and you don't want to share it. Just give them something. _Anything_. They just need to know you're not doing anything stupid, that you're still their captain."

"Well, this is my ship, so that makes me your captain. When did you start questioning my orders?"

"I don't like the new steersman you picked up," Johnny said after a moment, changing the topic.

"He brought us through several storms. He does his job," the Doctor argued drily.

"He does _your_ job, Doctor," he reminded him, "What would Clara say if she could see you like this?"

Her name felt like a sword piercing his heart. Clara would have never brought the steersman on board, Clara would have taken the wheel herself and headed straight into adventure, Clara would slap him until common sense finally returned to him. Everything was different with Clara, everything was better.

"Doctor-"

"I'm meeting someone here," the Doctor said, taking a deep breath, "Ready the jolly boat, will you?"

A half hour later the Doctor was being rowed ashore by Pit even though he had wanted to make this journey alone. His crew didn't need to know where he was going, what he was planning. He barely even believed it himself and a part of him was afraid they would abandon him if they knew. Yet Johnny had insisted that Pit joined him and when he had to grasp the edge of his seat a little tighter because the waves where turning over his stomach once again the Doctor had to admit that Johnny had been right. He wasn't in the state to go anywhere on his own right now and even when he had stepped on land he still could've sworn that the ground beneath his feet was swaying.

"Are you okay?" Pit asked him, the same wary look on his face that he had become familiar with of late whenever he did look at his crew.

"For the last time," the Doctor growled, "I am not okay. I will not be okay. And I don't want to hear that question ever again."

The Doctor suddenly resumed walking, or rather, staggering off in the direction he thought was right. "You can wait here," the Doctor told Pit.

A few minutes later he found the house and it looked exactly like they had all described it in the stories. Right now the Doctor only prayed that they had been right about everything else because he was already grasping at straws and the witch was his last hope of ever seeing Clara again. Her and the drunken stupor only rum could deliver.

The Doctor knocked and shortly after was asked to enter the house. The first thing he noticed was the darkness that seemed much more gentle on his headache than the bright sunlight. The second thing was an old woman dressed in rags who was sneering at him through rotting teeth. There it was, his last silly little bit of hope.

"I've come to ask your help," the Doctor began, "I've heard stories about you, that you might have what I need."

The woman giggled, a girlish laugh for such an old lady. "I've heard of you, too, Doctor," she said and stepped closer, eyeing him from head to toe, "The notorious pirate that doesn't actually do a lot of pirating, sailing the seas on his _TARDIS_ because he refuses to take orders from anyone. Tell me, why should I help you?"

The Doctor gave her a sincere smile right before he produced his pistol from out of his holster, pointing it directly at her.

 _"Because I'm telling you to," he said simply._


	2. Chapter 2: The Key

Thank you all so very, very, very much for the reviews! They make my day. They really do! Now, shall we see what happened to Clara?

 _Chapter 2: The Key_

"Sit," the old woman told him sternly and the Doctor could do nothing but stare at her in confusion. He was pointing a weapon at her and he was giving him orders. Something about that just didn't seem right to him. Nevertheless he eventually obeyed under her strict glances and took a seat at the table but kept his pistol pointed at her to make sure he wasn't tricked.

"You're not a killer," the witch said as she sat down on the opposite site of the table, "You've killed but you're not a killer."

"That depends on you," he growled in reply, "Help me and I won't harm you."

"I'll help you but I'd prefer not to be threatened while I do," the smile on her face was ice cold and finally the Doctor lowered his weapon and placed it on the table. It could be a trick, the Doctor couldn't tell. He was still too dazed for reasonable judgement.

"Give me your hand," she ordered him and reluctantly the Doctor outstretched his arm. The witch grabbed him by the wrist and turned it over, studying his palm for a long time while the Doctor observed her, his eyebrows raised. He didn't come here for soothsaying. He came for the key.

"My, you really did love her, didn't you?" she asked after a while and suddenly her features seemed to have softened a little when she looked at him, "It won't be easy, if it is possible at all. No one who went there has ever come back, at least not to my knowledge."

"I don't care," the Doctor spat.

"Tell me one thing, Doctor. Do you want her back because you blame yourself or because you can't live without her?"

He hesitated for a long moment even though it was clear to him that it was both. And he knew that he had to do everything in his power to get her back, even if it meant putting his own life at risk. He had to get Clara back.

"There is a key," she said after a while, "I have it here."

The Doctor cocked an eyebrow. He had thought she would probably know where it was but not that it was already in her possession. It made things a lot easier than he had anticipated. "How did you come by such a thing?"

The witch shrugged. "A sailor sold it to me. Or rather, he begged me to take it. Said he could hear the whispers from those poor souls coming through whenever he laid his hands upon it. Drove him half mad, the screams, the pleading."

The Doctor took a deep breath, trying very hard not to imagine Clara screaming for help when he had no way of letting her know he was on his way.

"If no one has ever come back, how can this key be here?"

The old woman smiled at him but said nothing. The Doctor simply guessed that it was one of those things even she couldn't explain.

"Give it to me. I don't care about the price, I'll give you everything I have. I'll give you my ship if I must," he told her in an urgent tone.

Suddenly the witch burst into laughter. "I'll give you the key, the price isn't the problem. _You_ are."

He furrowed his brows at her, not quite understanding.

"You must take the key to where the equator and the Prime Meridian meet but in the state you're in you will never even reach that destination, let alone survive what comes after. You have poisoned yourself for months, you're nothing but a shadow of a man."

The Doctor simply glared at her. The witch suddenly rose from her seat and instinctively he reached for his pistol but she only walked across the room to retrieve a vial from a shelf filled with all sorts of different mixtures.

"This tonic will draw the poison out of your system in less than a day. It would be like you have never even tasted rum but," she paused, looking at him almost threateningly, "It's going to be painful. If you want to see Clara again, this is your only choice. You have to do it."

The Doctor took the vial from her and it weighed heavy in his hand. _If you want to see Clara again_. . . _you have to do it_. . . as if it was that easy. He could see her, he just needed to drink himself into oblivion and the visions came. How was he going to give up the last thing that connected him to her? That was how he had lived day in and day out for the past months and he wasn't sure anymore who he was without it, without Clara. In losing her he had also lost himself.

"You have to do it," the witch reminded him, "You won't survive this for another fortnight and you certainly won't survive what comes after you have used the key."

The Doctor took a deep breath and nodded before the unscrewed the cap and emptied the tonic in one go. It tasted disgustingly sweet.

The old woman smiled at him. "I'm going to have to restrain you," she said calmly, "For your own protection."

His knees already felt weak when he rose out of the chair and was being led into another room with a not so very comfortable looking straw bed. As soon as he had settled down the woman fastened his hand and feet with the iron cuffs attached to the wood and he could only imagine that she had used this tonic on quite a few unlucky people before him to know she had to resort to this.

"What do I do now?" he asked.

"Sleep, if you can. And try not to scream."

It didn't take long for the effect to kick in and the nausea he had felt earlier was nothing compared to the cramps he was beginning to experience. He closed his eyes and tried to think about Clara. If everything went according to plan they would be reunited.

 **OOO**

The Doctor reached for Clara's and and couldn't help but smile back at her. Her laugh was so contagious and it filled his heart with nothing but pure joy while they jumped off the railing together and into the crystal clear sea the TARDIS currently anchored in. The weather was too warm and the water pleasantly cool on their skin. As soon as they had come back to the surface the Doctor pulled Clara against his own body and kissed her until they ran out of breath. This trip to the Caribbean had been the best idea she had ever had.

 **OOO**

Clara dragged him across the square until they came to a halt in the middle of it. He didn't really like being on land for so long and leaving the TARDIS with Johnny and the rest of the crew but after Clara had begged him for months he had finally given in and taken her to Rome.

"Impressive, isn't it?" she asked him, looking up at the Papal Basilica of St Peter and the Doctor couldn't deny it. But what he found infinitely more impressive was the look on Clara's face and he bent down to place a kiss on her temple. She only needed to ask and he would show her everything this world had to offer.

 **OOO**

The Doctor buried himself deeper inside of her, making Clara moan underneath him as she clawed at his back. They had done this hundreds of times in all possible positions and in the most impossible of places and yet whenever he entered her it felt like a miracle each time. He didn't think he would ever grow tired of making love to her.

She began to whimper underneath him when his thrusts came faster. "God, I love you," Clara moaned.

Suddenly the Doctor came to halt while he was still inside of her and she opened her eyes to look at him and see what was wrong.

"We should get married," he whispered, taking not only Clara by surprise but also himself.

After a moment of consideration Clara eventually nodded. "Okay," she replied breathlessly.

 **OOO**

The Indian ceremony was foreign and strange and all he really remembered was how beautiful Clara looked in the traditional clothes they had given her. They had no rings and they had only improvised their vows but the town was somehow all too happy for them and to celebrate their union with them. The Doctor, Clara and the rest of the crew were invited to join them at a big festival that was a bit foggy in his mind now because all they had done was kiss and drink and make love all night in their clumsy, drunken state before he had promised her the best honeymoon she could ever ask for.

 **OOO**

The Doctor cried out in pain and fought against his restraints when the pain grew too much to bear that not even his dearest memories could help him take his mind off it.

"Easy," the witch whispered next to him and a moment later he could feel her place a cool, damp cloth on his forehead. He hadn't even realized how he was burning up. "If you survive this you will be healthier and better than ever before."

" _What?_ " his head shot around and by the look on her face he could tell that she wasn't joking. He could die. He could actually die and then where would Clara be? A surge a pain shot through his stomach and the Doctor once again tried in vain to loosen his chains.

"Don't fight it. Let it happen. Think about Clara."

 **OOO**

The storm was the worst he had ever seen and the Doctor had already lost three members of his crew. They had been swept away by the waves and there was nothing he could have done about it.

"Go inside," the Doctor bellowed in Clara's direction.

"Not gonna happen," she said determinedly, "I won't leave you."

"But-"

He was interrupted when Clara suddenly stepped up to him and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Nothing is going to make me leave you. Ever. And certainly not a silly storm like this. We're in this together."

The Doctor couldn't help but smile and suddenly he lost his balance as a massive wave hit the ship, almost capsizing them all and then he heard her scream. When he looked back up Clara was nowhere to be seen.

" _Doctor!_ "

He dashed towards the railing where Clara was dangling, still holding on tight to the swaying ship, her feet hanging over the rough sea. He caught hold of her wrists just as she was about to slip.

"I've got you!"

But as he tried to pull her back on board another wave hit them, tearing Clara away from him and out onto the ocean.

What happened next went by too fast for him to really understand. The Doctor reached for the nearest rope and tightened it around his waist and he jumped after her before anyone even had the slightest chance of stopping him. Under water he saw nothing at all except darkness. The water was too cold to move and he had to hurry. He needed to find Clara and bring her back on board. But when he tried to swim further he found resistance and soon he realized that he was being pulled back on board. He tried opening the knot, tried freeing himself from the rope. He didn't have a lot of time to save her but his fingers felt too numb and soon he broke back through the surface. His struggling didn't help and once he was back on board and tried to go back into the water Johnny knocked him out cold and everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3: Mutiny

_First of all thank you so much for your reviews and I'm sorry for the long wait but this chapter was a pain in the ass to write for some reason. I'll try to finish this fic this week but I can't make any promises cause I'll be working a lot and I'm going on a weekend trip on Friday._

 **Chapter 3: Mutiny**

Clara sighed happily when the Doctor closed his arms tightly around her as they were lying in bed. If only he could hold her like this for all eternity.

"I'm so glad you're doing this," she said eventually.

The Doctor chuckled. "Did you doubt even for a second that I would try to get you back? Clara, I told you I'd sail the seven seas to find you – and I'd travel to Davy Jones' locker as well if it will only bring you back to me."

"I wasn't talking about that," she paused, "I was worried about you. I thought you'd drink yourself to death or get reckless and get yourself in danger."

Clara sat up to look at him and brought her hand to his face, softly caressing his cheek. The whole time there was a serene smile on her face.

"I'm glad you're getting better. Don't worry about me, I've been gone for a long time. Worry about yourself."

"I can't, I-"

The Doctor woke up with a start and sat up in bed, surprised to find his restraints gone. When he looked around the room was empty save for himself and the dim morning light was coming in through the curtains. Carefully he lifted himself up and walked into the main room of the house where he found the witch already sitting at the breakfast table.

"I made soup," she announced, "You should eat. And congratulations on your survival."

The Doctor grunted as he sank down on the chair and looked at the soup which seemed anything but delicious but right now he was too hungry to care much about taste. The witch had been right. He felt better than he had in a very long time, stronger and his head was finally clear for once. The Doctor had almost forgotten what it was like to wake up without a headache.

"What's your name?" the Doctor asked after he had taken the first spoonful.

"And now he remembers his manners," the old woman laughed at him but her features soon grew serious again, "They call me Ohila. Are you still determined to travel to the underworld?"

"More than ever," he replied.

"Getting in is easy, it's getting out that's the real problem. Davy Jones' locker is a labyrinth filled with traps to distract you from your goal. Sometimes you won't be able to tell, sometimes you will and some decide to stay because the temptation is too strong."

"Why would anyone choose to stay in the locker?"

Ohila shrugged.

"How do I get in?" the Doctor demanded to know.

"Like I said," the witch repeated, "It's easy. You don't have to do anything. Just make sure to carry the key around your neck. The rest will take care of itself."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows at her, not believing a single word that came out of her mouth. "I doubt it's _that_ easy."

"Believe it or not, that's not my problem," she said and retrieved something from underneath her clothing. A necklace she had worn with a key attached to the end of it. Without hesitation the Doctor attempted to take it when she offered it to him across the table.

" _I don't know where I am!"_

He dropped the key as soon as it came in contact with his skin and it fell back on the table.

"Clara," he muttered. He had heard her voice, unmistakably her voice. He reached out again but when he touched the key a second time the voices were nothing but whispers, nothing but a jumbled mess of lost souls, his Clara one of them. He had to get her out.

"What do you want in return?" he asked, looking up at Ohila.

For a long time she said nothing at all.

"You don't think I'll ever come back, do you?"

Finally Ohila answered, just a little shaking of her head, nothing more and nothing less.

"I will come back. With Clara," he promised himself more than anyone else and rose from his chair.

"Remember," Ohila urged him, "Carry the key around your neck. The rest will run its course."

 **OOO**

"What happened to you, Doctor?" Pit almost yelled at him as he stepped out of the house, "You were in there for a whole day. I heard screaming!"

The Doctor put on a smile. Yes, he now had every reason to smile again. Soon he would be with Clara and nothing and no one was going to stop him.

"No need to worry, Pit," the Doctor gave him a friendly slap across the back, "I'm fine and we can set sail again."

"But-"

"No buts," the Doctor laughed and had already started walking in the direction of the jolly boat, "Come on, the wind and the tides wait for no one!"

A half hour later the Doctor stood on deck of his TARDIS, feeling hopeful and energetic and he noticed that the crew had picked up on his change of mood. But he wasn't bothered, they could think whatever they hell the wanted to think.

"Captain, you look. . . good," Johnny remarked after a moment but he seemed unsure as to what had brought about this change.

"Thanks Johnny," the Doctor nodded, "Clara wanted me to pick myself up and I did that."

"Clara?"

The Doctor turned around to the young man and smiled. "Ready the ship, Johnny! We're heading out as soon as we can."

He opened his mouth in protest but the Doctor cut him off before he even had the chance. "You won't convince me otherwise."

"But Captain," Johnny insisted, "The crew is tired. They were hoping for a few days of shore leave while we're here."

The Doctor smiled kindly. "There is one more place we must go. After that you can all have a month of shore leave for all I care but we need to go to where the equator and the Prime Meridian meet. After that, I don't care."

Johnny looked at him in confusion. "Why? What is there?"

"The most precious thing in the universe," the Doctor explained before he abruptly turned around to walk up to the wheel. When he faced the crew again he couldn't help but notice their confusion. They would understand soon enough. As soon as Clara was with him again, they would see why.

"You're captain's back, landlubbers!" he yelled across the deck, "Time to get to work. We are headed for the exact spot where the equator and the Prime Meridian meet and-"

"Why?!" the steersman interrupted him, "What do you expect to find there?"

"Something that isn't any of your concern," the Doctor replied harshly, "And now get to work! All of you!"

When the Doctor stepped down he was again approached by Johnny but he didn't wear the same expression on his face that everyone else did. He looked worried.

"Captain, I think you should tell us," he said carefully, "If we're headed for danger, we should know."

"Oh Johnny," the Doctor sighed, "If you knew none of you would go. But I need to."

And with that the Doctor once more turned towards his crew, yelling at them to hoist the sails.

 **OOO**

The sea journey around Africa seemed to take an eternity and the Doctor grew more and more impatient with every passing day. He tried to take comfort in the knowledge that he would be with Clara again very soon but the truth was that he couldn't wait to finally hold her in his arms and kiss her again. He missed her so much.

The Doctor drew out the key from under his shirt and turned it around in his fingers. The closer they came to the spot the louder he heard the voices and he knew that they were on the right path but it had been days since he last heard Clara through it. If only there was a way he could let her know that he was coming.

"Captain," the steersman said outside his cabin door, "I think we've arrived."

"You think?" the Doctor snorted and stuffed the key back under his shirt.

The man outside his door groaned. "I'm sorry, Captain, but it's dark and too damn foggy to see the sign that says _you have found the exact spot where the equator and the Prime Meridian cross_ ," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The Doctor rose from his bed and stepped outside, looking into the unfriendly face of the steersman. "Where's Johnny?"

"Sleeping. You know, men do that from time to time," the steersman growled and walked up to the railing, the Doctor following him on his heels.

He had been right. It was pitch black night and through the fog not even the stars could be seen. And yet the Doctor suddenly felt the key a little heavier around his neck, as if something was calling for it, reaching for it to drag it down to the bottom of the ocean.

"Are you sure this is the right spot?" the Doctor asked while a handful of men gathered around them. He wasn't sure what he had expected from the entrance to the underworld, but he had definitely expected something more impressive than nothing at all. He bent over the railing and looked down but there really was nothing to be seen.

"What are we doing here, Doctor?" the steersman demanded to know, "Why have you brought us here?"

The Doctor shot around to glare at him. "My orders are not yours to question, steersman! As you may recall, I am your captain."

The steersman shook his head. "You've been captain for too long."

Suddenly two other man grabbed him from behind before the Doctor could even react, holding his hands behind his back and no matter how much he struggled he couldn't free himself.

"This is mutiny!" the Doctor called out, hoping that the other sailors might hear it but nothing happened. No one came to his aid.

"Yes," the steersman sneered at him, "I suppose it is."

The Doctor fought and struggled against the men who held him but they were too many, too strong and he had lost a great deal of his strength these past few months. If he couldn't wake the other sailors he was doomed and he would never see Clara again.

A strong push by the steersman himself sent him over the railing and soon enough the Doctor was engulfed by cold water. He tried to swim back up to the surface but something dragged him down. Panic started to rise up inside of him as he struggled against the currents to no avail. This was it. This was the end. The Doctor closed his eyes and let it happen.


	4. Chapter 4: Davy Jones' Locker

_Thank you for the reviews :)_

 **Chapter 4: Davy Jones' Locker**

When the Doctor woke up he was surprised to find his clothes and hair completely dry and for a moment he thought the mutiny had been nothing but a bad, bad dream. He opened his eyes and realized that he had been wrong. The first thought that went through his mind was that he must have died and gone to heaven, even though he had never really believed that such a place existed. The area surrounding him seemed to be the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes upon although his heart ached at the sight as if he had seen something more beautiful and forgotten about it. Everything he saw had a blueish hue to it, even the soft grass and flowers he was resting on. When he rose into a sitting position and looked around he spotted landscape as far as the eye could see. Mountains in the distance, lakes, fields, a river, a forest. The sheer beauty of it took his breath away. If this wasn't heaven, what else could it be?

And yet there was something in the back of his mind, like a word at the tip of his tongue that he almost had but could never quite find. A thought. Something he had forgotten that was desperately trying to be remembered by him. Beautiful. Something beautiful. But what could be more beautiful than this?

The Doctor rose to his feet and started to make his way across the meadow and down the small hill when he spotted a group of other people sitting around a fire. One of them was playing a cheerful tune on a violin while the others talked and drank and ate and celebrated and the Doctor decided to approach them. He felt thirsty to the point that it was giving him a headache.

"Hey stranger," a woman's voice called out for him from among the celebrating people, "You're new, right? Why don't you join us?"

His feet carried him to the fire before he had even made up his mind about it. There was something so inviting about them all that he couldn't resist. And he was so thirsty.

"Where are we?" the Doctor found himself asking as he was handed a cup of ale. He took a sip and thought he had never tasted anything more delicious in his entire life. Even though he emptied the cup in one go it did little to quench his thirst. He held out the empty cup and the woman refilled it.

"Well, we're in Valhalla, of course," she told him with a smile, "Where else would we be?"

"Yes, makes sense," he replied absent-mindedly before he downed his second cup. Still his throat felt as dry as a desert. Then he remembered something. Pain. There had been a lot of pain. He shouldn't be drinking.

"Here," the woman smiled as she refilled his cup again. Why did that ring a bell in his mind? "Have another cup. We have every reason to celebrate."

Then again, one more cup surely couldn't hurt.

The Doctor woke up with a headache and found that he was alone, the fireplace cold and deserted as if there hadn't been any fire at all in days. The people, the violin, the food and the drinks were gone and the Doctor suddenly couldn't tell how many days had passed since his arrival. They had drunk and eaten and celebrated for what seemed like a week and yet he didn't even know their names. Their faces were already beginning to fade from his memory.

When he got up to resume his walk down the hill he felt a little unsteady on his feet. Yes, he shouldn't have been drinking. Someone had told him that some time in a previous life and yet he had because it seemed to have made sense then. Now it didn't make any sense anymore. The Doctor had come here for a purpose, one he didn't remember, and the longer he stayed the further away it seemed. Something beautiful. He needed to remember.

"Help! Somebody help!"

The Doctor shot around and saw that the water of the lake was ruffled and that there was someone in the water and they were drowning.

He didn't think twice before he broke out into a run and jumped into the water where a young boy had overturned with his fishing boat.

"Please! I can't swim!"

The Doctor reached him swiftly and closed his arms around the boy. "No worries, I've got you," he told him calmly, "You're safe. Nothing will happen to you."

He gave the boy a moment to calm down, wondering why on earth this seemed so familiar to him. He had jumped in the water. He had wanted to get to someone. Why couldn't he remember the rest?

"Thank you," the boy said, still panting from the shock and the Doctor diverted his attention back to him.

"Can you hold on to my back?" he asked him, "I need my hands free so I can turn your boat back around."

The boy nodded and crawled on the Doctor's back, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around his neck while the Doctor turned the boat back into the right position before helping the boy climb back inside.

When he was truly safe the Doctor pulled the boat back to the beach and they both sank into the sand, taking a series of deep breaths.

"Thank you," the boy said with a smile, "You saved my life."

Save a life. Wasn't that what he had come here for? To save someone? The Doctor shut his eyes, trying to conjure up his memory but there was nothing there at all.

"Don't mention it," the Doctor muttered under his breath, still trying to think about what it was that he kept forgetting.

"My mum is going to beat me," the boy suddenly started sobbing, "I had caught a fish but it escaped and now we'll have nothing to eat."

"Hey, hey, hey," the Doctor tried to shush him, "Your mum is not going to beat you. You almost drowned."

He sniffed. "Yes, she will. She says I'm no good at all and she's right."

The Doctor had always been helpless when it came to children so he simply got up and reached for the boy's fishing rod before he stepped into the boat.

"What are you doing?" the boy asked him curiously.

"I'm going to catch you a fish," the Doctor promised and pushed the boat back into the lake.

The water was crystal clear and it didn't take the Doctor long to catch not only one big fish but three. Happy with his deed he rowed the boat back to where the boy was waiting, looking utterly overjoyed.

"Thank you," the boy beamed at him before he reached for the Doctor's hand, "You have to come home with me. You're going to have dinner with us."

The Doctor stopped dead in his tracks, letting go of the boy's hand. "I'm sorry," he said, "I can't. There is something I need to do."

"What is it?"

He shrugged, a sad smile on his face. "I don't know. I can't remember. I wish I could. It was important, I think."

"Maybe you'll remember over dinner?" the boy suggested happily.

 _"Yeah," the Doctor breathed when the boy took his hand again, pulling him away from the lake, "Maybe I will."_


	5. Chapter 5: Something Beautiful

_Because I'm going away over the weekend and is a bitch on mobile I won't be posting the last chapter on here before Monday. If you still wanna read it, check out my AO3 account xxdreameaterxx tomorrow._

 **Chapter 5: Something Beautiful**

The dinner the boy's mother severed that evening was the best he had ever eaten, the ale even stronger and better than the one he had had with the celebrating people and yet the Doctor couldn't shake the feeling that something about it all was very, very wrong.

"You can have the guest bed," the boy's mother told him kindly while she held out her hand, "Give me your shirt. I'll wash it and it can dry over night."

"Thank you," the Doctor replied as he started to take off his shirt, "That's very kind of-"

He broke off when suddenly his gaze fell on the key dangling from his neck. The key to Davy Jones' locker. How could he have forgotten about that? He slipped back into his shirt and instead pulled the key free, taking it in his hands. The voices came back immediately.

" _I don't know where I am!"_

"Clara," the Doctor panted, "How could I have forgotten you?"

Without even granting the family another look the Doctor darted outside only to find the world around him had changed. There was no grass, no fields, no flowers, there wasn't even a sky at all but when he looked up he saw the ocean. The mountains and the path were covered by a thick fog through which some poor, lost souls roamed and when he turned back the house was also gone, leaving the boy and his mother standing in the middle of nowhere like ghostly, empty creatures. He truly was in Davy Jones' locker and only now he understood Ohila's words. Escaping a place that at the first glance looked like paradise and that could change around you in an instant wouldn't be easy to leave. How would he ever know if he was truly back from the Underworld? And how was he going to find Clara when he couldn't even say how long he had been here?

The Doctor took the key in his hands again and closed his eyes. Maybe, if he just concentrated hard enough he could reach her. He inhaled sharply.

Clara was standing by a river, crying. Muttering over and over again that she didn't know where she was and there was a ferryman approaching. The Doctor could hear her thoughts and he knew that if she crossed that river it was over. There was no coming back from where the ferryman would be taking her. The Doctor broke out into a run, heading in the direction of the river.

This time the shadows of those lost souls didn't bother him or try to distract him. The magic had gone out of this place and he was the only one seeing clearly – thanks to the key, he assumed.

Then he saw her and gathered his remaining strength to call out her name. Clara didn't react. She only turned around when he gently placed his hand on her shoulder and looked at him through tired eyes.

"I don't know where I am," she muttered, "I must have gotten lost. I don't think I know this place."

"Clara," the Doctor breathed and couldn't fight the smile that was forming on his lips. He had found her, he had really found her. Whatever happened from now on wasn't important. He had found her.

Gently he cupped her face in his hands, unable to take his eyes off her even for a second. It's been so long since he saw her and for a brief moment the happiness he felt was stronger than anything else. Eventually a flicker of recognition washed over her face.

"Doctor?" she asked carefully, "Is that really you?"

"Yes, Clara," he smiled, "It's me, it's really me! I've come to bring you home."

"Where am I?" Clara looked around until her eyes fell on the river next to them, "It looks like the Thames but I don't recognize the houses."

She couldn't see it. Whatever it was that she was seeing it wasn't the paradise the Doctor first had encountered and it wasn't what this place really looked like.

"Come closer," he told her and when Clara had shuffled her feet in his direction he drew the key out from under his shirt and placed the necklace around both of them. He watched as Clara observed the landscape through her new found vision and saw the confusion slowly being replaced by fear.

"We're in Davy Jones' locker," the Doctor told her calmly, "But we have the key, we can get out."

Finally her gaze settled on him. "I drowned," she realized, gawking at him, "I saw you. I've been dead for months."

"You're not dead if we leave this place now," he told her and suddenly Clara reached out to punch him. She freed herself of the necklace and glared at him before she punched the Doctor once more.

"I was dead and gone! Why?! Why would you come here, you idiot?!"

"Because I love you!"

It was then that the Doctor couldn't hold back any longer. He stepped forward and crushed their lips together in a long kiss. He had missed her so much, he wouldn't waste any more time arguing.

When their lips parted Clara seemed to have calmed down and the Doctor reached out and took her hand in his own.

"We need to go," he said gently, "The longer we stay the harder it will be to leave."

"I'm tired," Clara admitted wearily, "I've been walking for days. I need to rest."

"We can rest later," he said, "I want to get away from this river."

Finally Clara nodded. The Doctor had reasoned that if this river was the final crossing to the depths of the Underworld they should walk in the opposite direction. He had no idea how to get out of here, maybe they would be trapped forever, but it was worth a try.

They seemed to have walked for hours when the river had finally vanished from sight but the Doctor had no way of telling. There was no sun, no moon, no stars to tell them how much time had passed or if they were headed the right way. There was no point of orientation, only landscape plunged into thick fog and eternal twilight. And he had to admit that his feet were starting to feel tired, too, and Clara was shivering next to him.

"How about we rest in that small hut over there?" the Doctor asked her, pointing at the ramshackle hut. They had passed several of those, some without a roof, some without doors or windows but this one, even if in a sorry state, seemed relatively intact.

It was still cold and clammy inside before the Doctor started to light a fire and Clara gathered some of the straw and found old, rotten blankets that she laid out in front of it. When the Doctor sat down next to her he couldn't help but think that Clara had been unusually quiet ever since he had found her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, placing one of the blankets around her shoulders, "You seem distracted."

Clara looked up at him and for a long moment said nothing at all.

"Are you real?" she finally asked, "Are you really here?"

"Yes," the Doctor smiled at her, "I went to see a witch after you. . . after I lost you. She gave me the key to Davy Jones' locker so I could get you back. With this key we have a chance of leaving this place."

"But how did you get here? The only way to end up in the locker is by drowning," she argued, the worry now audible in her voice.

The Doctor granted her a sad smile. "Long story. We should focus on getting out, not on how I got in."

"I can't imagine your crew would let you go without a fight. Not Pit, not Johnny. Why didn't they stop you?"

He inhaled sharply. Since his arrival in the locker he hadn't really thought about it. He had lost his TARDIS to that damned steersman. Johnny had warned him, on multiple occasions, he had warned him not to trust the steersman, he had implored him to tell everyone of his plans but he hadn't. The Doctor didn't think for a moment that his men, that Johnny and Pit and the others had been involved in the mutiny. That was the steersman's work and that of the men he had brought on board with him.

"There was a mutiny," the Doctor admitted after a while.

"You lost the TARDIS?" Clara sounded horrified.

"It doesn't matter," the Doctor said and cupped her face in his hands once more to look at her, "Right now the only thing that matters is that we both get out of here. We can worry about the rest later."

Slowly Clara nodded.

"I've missed you," he admitted.

"I've missed you, too."

The Doctor laid her down in front of the fireplace and covered her in kisses and just for a moment he could forget that they were both stilled trapped in Davy Jones' locker. When they undressed each other the world outside didn't matter, it was as it should be: the Doctor and his Clara. There was no fear, no doubts, no worries when he buried himself inside of her and finally Clara smiled as she clawed at his back and urged him to go faster. There she was, the Clara he had always known and loved, gentle and rough at the same time, as desperate for him as he was for her. After he had spent himself inside her the Doctor held her close and together they drifted off into sleep.


	6. Chapter 6: A Decision

_Thank you for the reviews :)_

 **Chapter 6: A Decision**

The Doctor woke up still holding Clara in his arms and he thought that he had never been happier in his entire life. The bed was so soft beneath them, so warm and Clara was so perfect that he wanted to close his eyes and enjoy it for a moment longer. Yet he soon realized that Clara had woken up as well and tightened her grip around him.

"I love you," she whispered, nuzzling her head against his chest, "I love you so, so much."

The Doctor placed a soft kiss on her head. "I love you, too."

It was perfect, maybe almost too perfect. Waking up next to the woman he loved in a cosy, large bed in a bright bedroom. Somehow he couldn't shake the feeling that something was not quite right.

Clara crawled on top of him and stopped only when their noses almost touched. She grinned at him. "Do you want to have breakfast or stay in bed all day?" she asked him.

The Doctor frowned at her, his previous thoughts still not entirely gone from his mind. Something didn't make sense.

"Clara, do you know where we are?" he couldn't help but ask.

She gave a short laugh in reply. "We're home. In our bed."

"Yes, but where is home?"

Now it was Clara's turn to frown. "In our house of course. Our beautiful, little house."

The Doctor couldn't decide. Did it make sense or not? "I don't remember buying a house," he admitted.

"Well, you must have. At some point. Because we're here."

"Clara," he said carefully, "We're still in Davy Jones' locker."

Clara shook her head and suddenly rose from their bed to look around the room. She replied nothing as she reached for her clothes and got dressed in a hurry before she left for the living room.

Not knowing what else to do the Doctor followed her example, put his clothes on and eventually found Clara standing in front of a large, nicely decorated breakfast table.

"We can't be," she said determinedly before she stuffed a grape into her mouth, "This isn't the locker. I've been here for months and it was dark and foggy. This isn't the Underworld. We made it out!"

"How?" the Doctor asked her because he knew the truth, "How did we make it out?"

"I can't remember," she almost yelled at him in despair.

The Doctor stepped forward and placed his hands on her upper arms, holding her steady as he looked at her. "That's because we're still in the Underworld. The witch warned me about this, that it would try to trick us into staying. This is an illusion. None of it is real."

"Would it be so bad?" she asked him, her eyes wide and sad, "Would it be so bad if we stayed here?"

The Doctor paused to consider her suggestions. They had a house here and food and they could stay like this for as long as they believed it to be real. Or so he thought. No, this was an illusion, it was all in their heads when in fact they were like those poor, roaming, empty souls. They had to leave.

A drop of water fell on his head and the Doctor looked up to see that the entire ceiling was leaking. He tightened his grip around Clara's arms.

"Clara," he glared at her, "We have to leave. And you have to make a decision. Decide to come with me. Now."

"Why?" she breathed.

When the Doctor looked around he saw the water coming in through under the door. Something was going to happen but Clara didn't seem to notice at all.

In a swift movement he produced the key from under his clothing and draped it around both their necks.

"Look!" he told her and only now Clara seemed to realize what was going on. Only now she saw the water that had already reached their ankles.

"Clara, make a decision," he implored her desperately, "Decide to live with me!"

She took a deep breath and the Doctor was beginning to grow worried. Clara was taking too long. The water had already reached their knees.

Then finally she nodded. The moment she had made her decision the house vanished around them and the water came crashing down. There wasn't even enough time to take a deep breath before they were flung around by the currents driving them upwards.

The Doctor held on tight to Clara. He wouldn't lose her. Not again. And in return she clasped her hands around his back as the rose up.

They both inhaled sharply as they broke through to the surface and the Doctor opened his eyes only to confirm that Clara was still with him. Not even waiting for her to catch her breath he pressed his lips onto hers. They made it. They made it out of Davy Jones' locker at last.

"Are we back?" Clara asked him. Despite being utterly drenched and still in the middle of the ocean the sparks in her eyes were back. He had missed those while they had been in the Underworld but now he took it as proof that they had truly made it back to the real world.

"Yes," he confirmed with a smile, "Yes, we have."

But now they seemed to be in the middle of the ocean and they'd die all over again if no one happened to come to their rescue.

Suddenly the Doctor heard the horn of a ship and turned around. The TARDIS had never looked as beautiful as it did right at this moment.

"Still haven't repainted the ship, I see," Clara nudged him under water and the Doctor laughed right before he started calling for help and waving his arms.

Johnny threw them a rope and with combined strength they managed to climb back on board of the ship where they were greeted by a more than stunned looking crew.

"Doctor!" Johnny threw his arms around him out of sheer joy, "I'm so glad you're okay."

Once he had let go of him again his eyes fell on Clara, who giggled nervously before they both greeted each other with a hug as well.

"I'm not going to pretend I understand what has happened," Johnny sad, still utterly flabbergasted, "But I'm glad that you're back."

"Oh, that? That was nothing," the Doctor shrugged, "Quick trip to Davy Jones' locker and back. Child's play, basically."

A sudden punch in the arm made him turn around and the Doctor watched Clara glare at him. But soon her features softened and she smiled. He was so glad to have her back. Then suddenly something else came to his mind.

"Where is the steersman and his pals?" the Doctor asked Johnny, who all of a sudden seemed a little uncomfortable.

He swallowed. "They told us you were drunk and fell over board. You know I always hated that man so," Johnny hesitated, "I chose not to believe them and locked them all up below deck."

The Doctor chuckled before he gave Johnny a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Well done. I think we'll find them a nice, little island in the middle of the ocean. Some solitude and fresh air would do them good."

Johnny nodded while the Doctor took Clara by the hand and led her up to the wheel to take back the command over his TARDIS. But he turned to Clara once more.

"Next time there's a storm, please, do as I say and go inside," he told her.

Clara giggled, smiling up at him. "Never gonna happen."

"This is why I love you," the Doctor said and bent down to kiss her.


End file.
